


Soot Sprite

by Tyaasei



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Cats, Fluff, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, M/M, Mentioned Roach (The Witcher), Quarantine 2020, Soft Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Soft Jaskier | Dandelion, Spontaneous Cat Acquisition, Villagers are dicks sometimes, no beta we die like witchers, soft whump, they're married
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-18
Updated: 2020-04-18
Packaged: 2021-02-23 13:54:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23712562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tyaasei/pseuds/Tyaasei
Summary: Cats don't like Witchers. It was a fact, though a sad one in Jaskier's opinion. Little furry creatures wouldn't even give Geralt a chance. Yet another one of the simple pleasures in life that Geralt's station robbed him of. Still, part of Jaskier wondered if maybe, one day there could be an exception, and he would be able to experience the absolute euphoria of watching his Witcher pet a cat for the first time in his long life.---------Or---------Me, shaking, crying, and cocking a gun: Let Geralt pet a kitty or else.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 33
Kudos: 549





	Soot Sprite

**Author's Note:**

> Starring:  
> Geralt as “Man who is adamant that he doesn’t like the cat his spouse brought home but is constantly getting caught feeding it table scraps and giving it pets”.  
> and  
> Jaskier as “Cat person who has had their need for cats left ignored because they live a nomadic life with a man who is cat repellent and is now taking this opportunity by the balls”.

Geralt had a secret. Well, not a secret, it was more like something that wouldn’t even occur to most people to wonder about the Witcher, even those who looked at him with anything more than disgust. If anyone looked, _really_ looked, and gave a damn, it would be downright unacceptable if one didn’t notice. It was also quite sad in Jaskier’s humble opinion.

How he’d found out about this little hidden Geralt fact happened much like he found out most things about his Witcher; He stumbled upon it by accident.

They had stopped in some backwater, shithole town he couldn’t be bothered to remember the name of, and with how they treated Geralt upon first seeing him, he had every right to banish the damned place from his memory. They hadn’t even stayed the night, just skulked around, sniffing for scraps of leads for Geralt’s next contract somewhere far, far away from there.

Jaskier had been staring at a merchant’s stand at the market, eyeing up the lack luster produce they had on offer. He’d turned around to make some comment about how wilted the lettuce heads were only to find his traveling companion gone. It wasn’t an uncommon occurrence, Geralt did have the tendency to wander off like a toddler with a hyper fixation on monster hunting. So, Jaskier did what he always did in those situations, and set off looking for him since there was no way he’d gotten far.

It took him longer than he would have liked for him to find the Witcher, and for a moment, he let himself panic that Geralt had decided to up and abandon him for some unspoken reason. After pacing the town square for what seemed like hours, Jaskier was almost ready to give it up, until he spotted the ox of his Witcher crouching in the middle of an alleyway.

That in itself was odd. But as Jaskier got closer, he noticed the soft crooning coming from the man, Geralt’s hand outstretched toward an alley cat who only hissed at him for his efforts. The Witcher made no move toward the creature, he just let his shoulders slump when the cat ran from him as fast as it could.

Part of Jaskier wanted to chuckle at the man’s efforts, how cute and uncharacteristic it was. The other half was just sad. As far as Jaskier was concerned, cats were wonderful, soft, adorable things and going a lifetime without having pet one was a crime. One of the small, simple pleasure in life that Geralt was being denied, yet again.

“Does that always happen?” Jaskier asked the man before he could stop himself.

Geralt turned to look at him and frowned before standing up with a ‘hmm’. He brushed his palms against his pants then brushed past Jaskier out of the alley.

“There’s word of a drowner nest two towns north.”

And that had been the end of that non-verstation.

That had been months ago, and now almost every time they were stopped somewhere, Jaskier caught Geralt trying to get close to another stray. He failed each time, and every time it happened, Jaskier’s heart broke just a little bit more on the Witcher’s behalf.

At that moment in time, they were holed up in a barn as the rain pounded down around them, riding out the storm as the night wore on. Had Geralt gotten his way, they would have camped out in he woods in the torrent, but he’d learned long ago that having Jaskier made that an impossibility. They got lucky this time since the old widow who ran the farm had a liking for Jaskier’s songs and refused to tolerate leaving Roach out in the God-awful weather. So here they were, with Geralt sitting with his back pressed up against the wall, pretending to sleep, and Jaskier curled up in the hay with his head on the Witcher’s lap, also pretending to be asleep. The last hunt had gone awry, and neither of them had bothered to try and sleep. Geralt had received quite the beating, and the damn village Geralt had wiped out the monster for had driven them out without paying.

Bastards.

Considering that string of bad luck, sleeping out of the rain during a thunderstorm was a minor blessing. Jaskier shifted in his bedroll, turning onto his side, only to notice something skitter out of his sight. He jumped and sat up. Just behind him, he heard Geralt jerk up from his place, his hand snatching a sword closer.

Whatever it was moved again, this time more stunted, and then everything went still again.

“Is it hiding?” Jaskier asked, not taking his eyes off of the pile the creature had huddled under.

“Stay here,” Geralt said as he moved to stand, only to be shoved back down with a grunt.

“No, you stay there. Whatever it is can’t be too harmful if it hid this close to us. It’s afraid.”

“Jaskier-”

“Hush.”

Without another word, the bard started crawling, easing forward and trying to keep whatever the frightened creature was from bolting or attacking. Behind him, the grind of leather against dirt gave him the quiet assurance that Geralt was ready to strike if it came to that.

Jaskier began sifting through the straw, careful to keep his hands visible at all times. He stuck his hands too far inside the pile at one point, and he drew his hand out with a hiss, oddly enough with an answering hiss coming from the pile. There was no blood, didn’t even hurt that bad, but Geralt was up in a flash, by his side in an instant.

“Don’t attack it.”

Before Geralt could stop him, Jaskier shoved his hands right back into the hay, and finally shifted enough aside to reveal a shaking bundle of fur that was covered in cuts and scabs. Valiant little thing it was, it hissed again, and tried to swipe at Jaskier again. A beat-up looking cat who Jaskier swore couldn’t have been more than a year-old shook and tried to make itself seem as big as possible, but in the end, only accomplished showing off its ribs and starved body.

“Oh, Geralt. It’s just a cat. Get the rations satchel.”

Sword now laying abandoned on the ground, Geralt gave Jaskier a hard look.

“You mean the rations we’re already low on? You mean the ones we weren’t able to restock in the last village?”

“Geralt, rations satchel. Now.”

“Fine.”

The bag hit Jaskier in the back, hard, but as far as the bard was concerned, he’d won this round. Flipping it open, he rooted around until he found a bit of dried meat, then snapped it shut again. Jaskier moved to approach the hay again, pretending not to notice the looming specter of cautiously curious Witcher peaking over his shoulder.

Jaskier moved his hand in first, going slower this time, palm up and open, not too close to the cat to avoid scaring it further. It hissed again, but had no move to flee, although that could have been just because it was frozen in fear. Jaskier drew back his hand, then placed it back, palm still facing up, this time with a scrap of meat in hand. He dropped it in front of the cat, then moved back again, taking Geralt with him to give the creature some space.

“You shouldn’t be wasting food on that.”

“Quiet, you.”

Geralt hummed, making the hand Jaskier had on his chest vibrate, irritated, but without enough bite to mean that he was adamant about his words.

“It’s starving, Geralt,” Jaskier said, “You really can’t expect me to just leave the poor scared thing hungry, can you?”

“You’ll be singing to a different tune in a few days when we’re down to eating squirrel stew and the crumbs at the bottom of the bag.”

The cat didn’t move for a moment, then moved one of their paws to snatch the meat closer, sniffing it, before devouring it without hesitation. It never let its wide, yellow eyes leave the bigger creatures in the room, but it did lower itself to its haunches, curling in on itself. Its black fur was smudged with dirt and dust, with hair missing in a few patches where it had likely gotten in a fight and come out on the losing end. The top of one ear was missing, and it seemed to be favoring its left side.

Jaskier picked up another bit of meat and held out his hand, this time not withdrawing it. It took a moment, but the cat leaned forward to sniff his hand, then grabbed the meat before backing up again. Jaskier didn’t remove his hand. Instead, he left out a soft mew. The cat tilted its head up to look at him.

“What are you doing?”

“Speaking cat.”

“Jaskier…” Geralt started, then pinched the bridge of his nose, his eyes falling shut, “You can’t speak to cats.”

“Not with that attitude, I can’t!”

He gave another meow, this time wiggling his fingers and steadily letting them creep closer to the feline. A small growl started when Jaskier’s finger brushed against the top of one ear.

“You’re going to get yourself scratched again.”

“Shut up and pass me another piece of meat.”

Jaskier presented the next piece of meat, this time carefully stroking one fingertip over the top of the cat’s head. When it didn’t attack, just remained as stiff as a board, Jaskier kept going. It didn’t take long before he was petting the top of its head with his whole hand and the cat let out soft purrs as it relaxed.

“Look at you, precious little soot sprite. Such a sweet thing…”

“Give me your hand,” Jaskier said, reaching his empty hand behind him, “I want to try something.”

“You’re going to scare it off,” Geralt tried reasoning, “All of your work and all of that meat will get put to waste.”

Giving up asking, Jaskier just grabbed Geralt’s hand for himself, still making sure to keep his other hand petting the feline. He pulled Geralt closer, sticking a bit of meat in his hand too, before placing it into the hay nestled around the cat. The black ball of fur tensed up for a moment but settled down under Jaskier’s gentle hand.

“Don’t move, Geralt.”

It took a moment, but before long the cat moved out from under Jaskier’s hand and grabbed the food, eyes staying on Geralt the entire time. But there was no growl or hiss.

“Good…” Jaskier let out, breathy and with a smile, “Now go slow. Let it sniff you.”

“I smell like horse, barn, and noonwraith guts...”

For the sake of Geralt’s pride, Jaskier ignored the shaking of Geralt’s normally steady hand as he inched it closer. He stopped several times, whenever the cat tensed its shoulders and stopped purring, only to settle just in front of the feline, waiting. Jaskier watched with bated breath as the cat moved forward to smell Geralt’s hand. Also for the sake of Geralt’s pride, the sound of an awed gasp as a tiny wet nose met his calloused skin went ignored as well.

Jaskier couldn’t help the low coo that came out of his mouth when the cat leaved down to rub its head against Geralt’s hand, and the Witcher’s huge thumb began ghosting over the cat’s head. A soft, choked noise left Geralt’s throat.

“There we go…”

Jaskier drew his hand back to get what was left of the meat out of the satchel to pile up next to the cat, cooing all the while as the little creature ate, Geralt’s big hand still sweeping over its body.

“How the fuck did you do that?”

“Patience, and a little love and care go a long way when looking after damaged creatures.”

They all stayed like that for hours, at one point with the feline crawling out of their hay nest to curl up next to them, warm and full. Neither of them noticed when they all fell asleep, but in the morning, Jaskier woke to find the little black cat curled up against a content looking Geralt who might as well have been purring himself.

The widow’s daughter came out to greet them, loaves of bread tucked into a basket for them, waking Geralt as she approached. She stopped, then stared at Geralt, frozen.

“Oh, so you found her…”

“Her? It’s a girl?” Jaskier asked.

The girl nodded.

“Yeah, she’s been with us for a while since her ma abandoned her as a kitten. Only black one in the litter, the runt too…”

“If she’s yours, why’s she so skinny? You haven’t been taking care of her well…”

Eyes welling up in tears, the girl sniffed.

“I try, mister, but my ma don’t like her. Says black cats are evil and bring bad luck. If ma found out that I was letting her stay in the barn, she’d kill me and the cat both.”

Geralt tensed beside Jaskier, his hand still buried in the cat’s messy coat.

“We promise we won’t tell your ma. We’re leaving today, anyway.”

“Sounds like the cat won’t be safe here.” Geralt muttered as he sat up.

“No,” the girl replied, “I’m afraid of the day when ma finds out I’ve been keeping her all this time."

Saying nothing, Geralt kept scratching the cat’s back, a deep ‘hmm’ vibrating from his chest.

“Did you name her, sweetheart?” the bard asked.

“No, ma said it’s bad to name things to keep from getting attached.”

With that Geralt stood, startling the cat who looked up at him, expectant and confused. Stooping low, he gathered the little thing up into his arms, easy so he wouldn’t disturb her too much. He looked uncomfortable for a moment before he adjusted his arms to hold her right. Jaskier made no effort to hide his grin as he stood up as well.

“We’ll be taking her, then?” Jaskier asked, getting a huff in reply as Geralt marched over to Roach, packing up one handed.

“You’ll take good care of her right?”

“Of course, make sure your ma knows we appreciate her kindness.”

The girl left with a bright smile and an empty basket. Bread in hand, Jaskier walked over to the bustling Witcher and stopped him before handing him a loaf.

“So, we have a cat now.”

“Hmm.”

“You’ve got to name her now, you know that right?”

Geralt hummed again, before letting a smirk creep across his face.

“And if you think I’m letting you call that pretty little thing Roach Two, you’ve got another thing coming. You’ve already marred one beautiful creature with that name, I won’t let you do it again!”

Not an hour later, the bard and the Witcher were on the road again, this time accompanied by a small feline curled up safe in what was their rations bag. That night, they all sat around the campfire, eating skinny excuses for roast rabbit, with the cat now named Soot chewing on a leg of her own. She made happy little noises as she ate and curled up next to Geralt when she was done, nodding off to sleep with a soft purr, safe and content.

In the next town, they made sure to buy extra rations for the new soot sprite that accompanied them on their journeys, and Jaskier pretended not to notice the soft new blanket bundled up on the back of Roach as they left town.

**Author's Note:**

> Access to soft kitties is an essential right of life and I am willing to take anyone who doesn't agree with me to court.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed! If you could, I would really appreciate a kudos or a comment. I'm always looking for constructive criticism to improve my work. Thanks for reading and have a good one! ♥
> 
> And remember! Stay inside and wash your hands!


End file.
